Drifting
by Smif
Summary: Sometimes things happen too fast, and all you can do is run to keep up. - A brief moment in the life of Farkas.


**Drifting**

\- Sometimes things happen too fast, and all you can do is run to keep up. A brief moment in the life of Farkas.

A/N: I've loved Skyrim dearly, though I don't play it as much these days, and I've wanted to write something for it for a long time. This scrap is hardly worthy of being called a story, but anyway. I'm very fond of Farkas, so I decided to give him some words. My Dragonborn is a Khajiit woman, and sadly her Khajiit companion is entirely out of my imagination; curse the lack of decent Khajiit characters in that game.

Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls games and thus the world of Skyrim belong entirely to Bethesda, as do all characters named here apart from Ri'Tsarradra and J'skarri. Used with affection.

* * *

It had all happened a bit fast, from what Farkas could tell. He hadn't been there for all of it, and Vilkas kept brushing him off when he asked, so he didn't know most of what had happened, but now here things were: Old Kodlak was dead, Vilkas was running Jorrvaskr and the new Harbinger of the Companions was... well... her.

He couldn't remember how to say her name properly, so he'd been calling her 'the cat lady' up until yesterday, when Vilkas had snapped at him to show some respect. Now he wasn't sure what to say, because her name was all strange vowels and guttural throat-sounds and he'd have written it down to remind himself if he'd known how to spell it.

Aela laughed at him when he asked her, and it rolled off her tongue when she said it. _Ri'Tsarradra_. _Ri'Tsarradra_. He'd never seen Elsweyr, but hearing that name filled his imagination with the strange things he'd heard about: Endless seas of sand, strange trees like tall poles with green sails on top that bent and fluttered in the wind, the colourful caravansaries making their way across the desert under the warm night sky and the silver glow of the moons... It sounded exotic, outlandish and beautiful.

She was always gone from Jorrvaskr. She seemed eternally busy, even when she returned for brief visits and to help where needed. Something always pulled her away again - even when she wasn't there, couriers came by in search of her, and it seemed as though no sooner had she arrived than another would descend with more messages asking for her help. Such was the life of the Dragonborn, Farkas supposed. You were always needed somewhere.

Her latest visit had been last night. He'd only heard about it the following morning, because she had gone again almost immediately; passing through the halls in the small hours, speaking to Vilkas about important matters and then leaving silently into the twilight before dawn. Aela had seen her go, and said she had looked tired. She had joined another cat woman outside and they had loped away together into the mists. He felt disappointed he had missed her, though he couldn't quite say why.

There was something about her - unpronounceable, unapproachable, regal as a queen. Farkas hadn't met many khajiit, but she seemed different. She smelled different. Maybe it was the wolf inside her; but no, he remembered, she had been different even before the blood of Hircine had run in her veins. The khajiit he had met before were foreign, yes, mysterious and a little worrying with their cat's eyes and their wicked grins. They always filled him with misgivings, because they seemed to know he wasn't clever enough for them.

She had never treated him like that. Unlike Vilkas, who called him stupid all the time and hardly bothered to lower his voice; unlike Aela, who didn't mind but still laughed at him and jokingly referred to him as 'village idiot'; unlike Kodlak, who had always been kind but never quite managed to hide the knowledge that Farkas wasn't clever enough to be much good for anything. No, she spoke quietly in her rough khajiit voice, half a purr and half a murmur, and although she rarely looked right at him, she seemed to know how to answer his unspoken questions without patronising him. She filled in the gaps when he didn't know what to say, with kindness and calm, making him feel welcome and important.

It was foolishness to say he loved her. He didn't know her, couldn't talk to her, and even her name was too complicated for him to master. He didn't dare say he loved her. But he wanted to, guiltily, shamefaced at his own conceit.

And yet now here she was, looking right at him, and it was all he could think of.

The last time anything had made sense, he had been sitting in the shade of the awning on Jorrvaskr's back porch. He had swilled his beer and looked into the foamy depths of his flagon with a sudden sense of gloom, and then the world had turned upside down.

She smiled at him, all sharp white teeth and feline jaw; it was innately predatory, but her small figure and her warm eyes stopped him from worrying too much.

'Forgive me for my hurry,' she said, bowing her head slightly. 'I should not rush you so, but I must be gone again by the turn of the hour. Will you come with me?'

The sunlight streamed through the cracks in the awning and dappled her fur with shadows. She looked beautiful, maybe the loveliest creature in the world - but still a creature, still a beast, not a woman. Was that true? He couldn't think straight enough to answer his own question.

'As you wish, Harbinger,' Farkas muttered, struggling for words and falling back on the easy ones.

He took only a few moments to gather his things in a knapsack and follow her back outside. She had paused on the front steps, speaking to Vilkas again, but her khajiit friend was some way off by the Gildergreen tree. The little woman was seated cross-legged by its ancient trunk, gnawing on something. A couple of children had come to watch her from a few yards away and were whispering to each other with interest.

Vilkas disturbed his thoughts. 'Farkas, there you are. I was just about to come and look for you.'

'You are admirably swift, my friend,' said the Harbinger, smoothly crossing over Vilkas and smiling an almost secret smile for Farkas.

'I'm ready to leave when you wish, Harbinger,' Farkas said gruffly, eyes wandering back to the other woman by the tree. She seemed unconcerned by her small audience. A butterfly had come to dance around her ears, and she had paused to watch it suspiciously.

'We have had our council, Vilkas, and I am confident in you as ever,' the Harbinger said, nodding to him. 'So we will take our leave, I think. Good fortune to you, friend.'

She padded down the steps with Farkas following. Near the tree the children ran away at the sight of their approach, and her friend gave up her vigil and hopped up to join them.

'Farkas, this is my dear friend J'skarri; J'skarri, Farkas, my loyal companion. Thank you both for joining me. I know my travels are not always easy, so it means much to have you with me.'

J'skarri chuckled softly. 'You could not make me leave you, Ri'sar,' she said with a grin. Her voice was rougher than the Harbinger's, sharper and more accented, and Farkas wondered what made them different.

The Harbinger laughed too, catching J'skarri's hand warmly in hers. 'I am honoured by your love, little one,' she said fondly, and then nodded to Farkas. 'If you have said your goodbyes, then we may go.'

And so they left Whiterun.


End file.
